<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Let Me See You by indoorbutch</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167147">Let Me See You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/indoorbutch/pseuds/indoorbutch'>indoorbutch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angry Sex, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Jealousy, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 02:22:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/indoorbutch/pseuds/indoorbutch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol suffers a disappointment, and behaves badly. But Therese isn't a wallflower anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carol Aird/Therese Belivet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>213</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If the idea of our two girls fighting isn't your thing, or if you find angry sex triggering, you might want to skip this. But be aware, it all turns out well!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was five months before Harge agreed to let Rindy spend the weekend with Carol. Up to then she’d had only visits, Florence lurking nearby like a prudish vulture. Carol always ignored her, not caring, because Rindy was what mattered. So, when Harge announced one day that Rindy had been pestering him to let her spend the night at Carol’s, Therese thought she had never seen Carol so delighted, so surprised.</p><p>She was nervous and excited all week. She smiled more, laughed more. She made plans for the three of them to go to a zoo on Saturday, even bought the tickets ahead of time so they would not have to wait in line with an easily bored five-year-old. Therese bought some new rolls of film so that she would be able to take pictures all weekend, and when Carol realized this, she gave her a soft look of gratitude and adoration, that lit Therese up from the inside.</p><p>On Friday night, a half hour before Rindy was to arrive, Harge called. His ninety-four-year-old grandmother had come into town unexpectedly and was demanding to see Rindy. It couldn’t be helped. They would have to find another weekend. Carol could still see her on Sunday afternoon for a couple of hours if she liked.</p><p>Therese hovered nearby, Harge’s voice coming clearly through the line. She hugged her arms to her chest as anxiety charged through her. It was so much like the night last year, when Harge came and took Rindy away for Christmas. And as then, Carol became like a stranger. After the call ended, she stood awhile staring at the receiver, her expression frozen, caught in the most impotent rage that Therese had ever seen. Worse, even, than when she’d held a gun on the private detective. Therese wished all of the sudden that <em>she</em> had a gun. She thought about then she was ready to shoot Harge.</p><p>“Carol?” she said at last, tentative.</p><p>Carol didn’t answer her. She picked up the phone again and rang another number. She turned her back on Therese, and spoke rapidly and furiously into the phone, her voice low, as if she didn’t want Therese to hear. When she hung up, she straightened her shoulders and said to the room, almost like Therese wasn’t there, “I’m meeting Abby for a drink.”</p><p>She was gone a long time. It was nearly midnight when she stumbled back into the apartment, clearly drunk. Therese was relieved at least that she had taken a taxi instead of her own car. Therese went to her in the hallway to help her out of her coat, and Carol flinched from her.</p><p>“I’ve got it,” she snapped.</p><p>Therese balked, stepping back, wounded in spite of herself. She understood that Carol was hurting. She understood her rage and helplessness and grief. But she also thought that, after all this time, Carol was done with shutting her out. She watched Carol stumble past her, kicking off her shoes and throwing the coat on the sofa and making her way toward their bedroom. Therese followed her at a remove, watched her from the doorway as she began to strip out of her clothes.</p><p>“Have you eaten?” Therese asked.</p><p>Carol gave a cold, drunken laugh.</p><p>“Olives,” she said.</p><p>Therese said nothing at first, but Carol’s distance and coldness was beginning to pick at old wounds, to worry loose the stitches that, even after five months, Therese sometimes felt under the surface of her skin.</p><p>“Soaked in gin, I see.”</p><p>Carol scoffed and looked up at her. Her eyes, even drunk, were full of a fierce intelligence, and also mockery.</p><p>“Ah,” she said, “I’m to endure your judgment tonight as well.”</p><p>Therese said, “I’m not judging you, Carol. I only wish you would talk to me.”</p><p>“I’m done talking, Dearest,” she said. For the first time ever, her endearment felt like a slap. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to join me if you can stand it. There’s always the bed in Rindy’s room. Since it’s not being used.”</p><p>Therese sighed, irritated. Carol could be so theatrical sometimes, and right now she had no patience for it. No patience to be treated coldly and cruelly when all she wanted was to help. She left the bedroom, left Carol to her self-pity. Not long after, the telephone rang. It was Abby, checking that Carol had got home all right.</p><p>“Are you as drunk as she is?” asked Therese, not concealing her anger.</p><p>Abby sighed. She didn’t sound drunk, only sad. “Be gentle with her, would you, Therese? She’s taking it hard.”</p><p>Ordinarily Therese would have been mollified by this, but tonight she felt like there were razors everywhere, and it had not escaped her that in the moment of crisis, Carol had turned to Abby and not her.</p><p>“Next time try to get her home at a decent hour,” she said, and hung up.</p><p>&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt; </p><p>The following morning, Carol stayed in bed, hungover and miserable. Therese brought her coffee and a plate of toast, but there was little tenderness in it, and she didn’t stay. She had barely slept the night before, the space between her and Carol’s bodies seeming wide and barren as a desert. And now this morning, despite her hopes, Carol had barely said a word to her. She was distant, clearly still absorbed in her own thoughts.</p><p>Therese, growing steadily angrier over the morning, decided she would not sit around like a pathetic housewife waiting for Carol to honor her with her attention. Last week Dannie had invited her to a picnic today, in Central Park, but she had said no because of Rindy. Now, it seemed like the perfect distraction, and the perfect statement. She didn’t <em>need</em> Carol. She could get along very well without her.</p><p>She grabbed her camera and left without saying goodbye.</p><p>Dannie and Phil were there, and a couple of their other friends (not Richard, thank God). Dannie especially seemed glad to see her.</p><p>“Therese! Say, I thought you couldn’t make it?”</p><p>“Change of plans,” said Therese flatly, settling down on the blanket and displaying the two bottles of wine that she’d bought on the way over. Everyone cheered.</p><p>It was a beautiful September day, right on the cusp of autumn but still warm. Dannie’s sweetheart, a funny and cheerful girl named Anna, passed out sandwiches, and they all sat around and talked and laughed. The boys had brought a frisbee and after awhile they got up to play. The two other girls in their party went in search of one of the ice cream carts that were circling the park. Then it was just Anna sat next to Therese on the blanket.</p><p>“Dannie said you’d be with Carol all weekend?”</p><p>Dannie and Phil and Anna were Therese’s only friends who knew about her and Carol. Everyone else thought they were roommates, or at least pretended to. </p><p>“Oh, well,” Therese said, clearing her throat. “Carol turned out to be busy today.”</p><p>Anna gave her a considering look, but when Therese offered nothing else, she changed the subject to English literature, which she was studying at Barnard. Therese, being such a voracious reader, always found they had a lot to talk about in this department, and after awhile all thoughts of Carol vanished with the flow of conversation.</p><p>It was while they were in the middle of a rather passionate discussion of <em>Strangers on a Train</em> that Genevieve Cantrell showed up. Bright and cheerful and charming, she plopped down onto the blanket beside Therese.</p><p>“Why helloooo, ladies,” she said. “Let’s have some of that wine!”</p><p>Anna handed her a paper cup and they poured off the last of the second bottle between the three of them and toasted the end of summer. Therese had had two cups now, so she wasn’t drunk, but felt only relaxed and pleased with everything. She was even pleased to see Gen, who normally made her feel so nervous. They had seen each other a few times since the night of Dannie’s party, usually at social functions, once in a record shop. Gen knew about Carol. Apparently, Dannie had had to tell her, because she was, as he’d said it, <em>‘Plotting her attack.’</em> At the time this had mortified Therese, but now she only found it funny. Gen had dropped some of her most aggressive flirting, but flirting seemed a natural state for her, and so Therese was not surprised when the woman gave her a slow onceover.</p><p>“Looking good, Belivet,” she said, as if she were one of the boys.</p><p>Anna rolled her eyes. “Stop causing trouble, you! What if Carol were here?”</p><p>“Ah, but Carol is <em>not</em> here,” drawled Genevieve. “Which hasn’t escaped my notice. Spill, Therese. Where is your Grecian goddess?”</p><p>Therese wished very much that people would stop asking about Carol.</p><p>“Home,” she said.</p><p>“Didn’t she want to come along to our fine picnic?”</p><p>Before Therese could stop herself, she snorted, derisive. “I didn’t invite her.”</p><p>The minute the words got out, she regretted them. She regretted them more when Anna and Gen exchanged looks.</p><p>“I smell a lover’s tiff,” said Gen primly.</p><p>Therese sighed, angry at herself, and Anna said, “It’s all right, Therese. We don’t have to talk about—”</p><p>“So, what did she do?” interrupted Gen.</p><p>Therese made a dismissive gesture. She supposed she could tell them, maybe even she should, but she had never got the knack for that kind of openness. Perhaps if she had had more friends growing up, or crushes on boys, or learned, somehow, just what this sort of girl talk was meant to entail… but instead she felt only awkward and exposed.</p><p>Suddenly Gen put a hand on hers. She nearly pulled away. She never let anyone touch her but Carol. Still, Gen had put away her flirtatious act for the moment and was looking at her kindly.</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll work it out,” she said. “Just tell her to stop being a dunce, all right? We all know someone else will snatch you up if she’s not careful.”</p><p>Anna rolled her eyes again, but Therese couldn’t help a short laugh. Except then she thought again of Carol going to Abby, and said morosely, “I sometimes wonder if it’s the other way around.”</p><p>“Nonsense!” Gen declared, moving her hand away. “You’re a catch, Belivet. She’d be mad not to see it.”</p><p>“Say, where’s the rest of that wine?” cried Phil, coming up to them again. When he saw the empty bottles, he groaned, “We’d better go get some beers, then. Anybody want to head to the bar?”</p><p>Everybody did, and the conversation about Carol ceased. In relief, Therese helped them all gather up their things, and they began to walk.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Carol has insecurities, too...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carol ate the toast and drank the coffee, and after two aspirin and two glasses of water and a single shot of whiskey, she began to feel almost human.</p><p>By then it was 2 o’clock, and Therese had been gone for three hours. That was just as well. Carol knew when she was awful company, and she didn’t think she could bear to see Therese looking at her in the sweet, wanting-to-help way that she had, when of course she couldn’t help. There was no help.</p><p>She did wonder where Therese had gone, though she reminded herself that Therese had no obligation to tell her. When Therese had agreed to be with her again, there were certain caveats. She wouldn’t move in right away. She wouldn’t spend all her time in Carol’s company. She had work now, real and satisfying work, and she had her own friends, and this was all part of what had made her so striking that night at the Ritz. Her sudden blossoming. Carol wouldn’t have changed her for anything, knew she was lucky to have her at all. Even now that they did live together, Carol often encouraged her to do as she liked, to meet up with friends or colleagues, to go on her long and wandering ‘photography walks’ as Carol called them. This must be what she was doing today.</p><p>But as the afternoon wore on, Carol began to be agitated. She still felt rather ill, and if she wasn’t thinking about Rindy, she was thinking about Therese. Worrying. She started to resent it. Tired of the impotence of inaction, she focused on the apartment, cleaning the kitchen, and sweeping the front room. She considered putting some music on but the first record she saw was <em>Easy Living</em> and that pricked her with annoyance, as it never had before. After awhile she went to straighten their bedroom, but in the hallway, she paused next to Therese’s darkroom.</p><p>This was Therese’s space. She never went in here, except when Therese invited her. But Therese was gone somewhere and as time wore on that was making Carol more and more unsettled. She had needed to leave the house last night—needed to get away and drink and commiserate with Abby. Needed, for some reason, to hide from Therese. Hide the shame she felt. The helplessness and grief. She feared that her lover would blame herself, as she still sometimes did, for the trouble with Harge—and Carol didn’t think she had the strength to comfort herself and Therese last night.</p><p>But today, she felt differently. Today, she <em>wanted</em> Therese. Wanted the gift of her nearness, of her sweet smile, of her fingers gently combing through Carol’s hair. Except she wasn’t here.</p><p>Carol opened the door to the darkroom and went inside.</p><p>It was, predictably, dark. She turned on the eerie red light and looked around. There were photographs hanging everywhere, a panorama of Therese’s talent. Many of the photographs were of Carol. Most were of New York itself and the humans in which Therese had grown so interested, bakers and mothers with prams and men playing chess in the park. There were also a few of Therese’s friends, and Carol went up to these and stared at them. The setting was a bar. She recognized Dannie and Phil, and Dannie’s girlfriend—what was her name? All the photos were candid. People talking and laughing and drinking. In one of these, she saw the camera was focused on two women, seeming caught in animated conversation, the one on the right laughing brightly.</p><p>Carol recognized her. It was that woman, Genevieve Cantrell. They’d run into her together once, in a record shop, and Therese had been uneasy throughout the brief conversation. Carol had not missed the way the woman, Gen, kept glancing at Therese throughout their exchange, a quirk to her lips, a focus to her look. Later, when they got home, Carol had teased Therese that she had an admirer, but rather than blushing prettily or brushing it off, Therese had grown upset, almost guilty. It took a great deal of touching and soothing and kissing before she finally admitted what had happened months ago, the night of their reunion. How Genevieve had approached her, chatted to her, seemed to hint at their seeing each other again, even going somewhere that night. It was Genevieve’s obvious interest in her that made Therese realize that she did not want anyone but Carol, and that was when she left the party for the Oak Room.</p><p>At the time, the story had not bothered Carol at all (amused her a little—delighted her, secretly). Rather, she felt almost grateful to this would-be suitor, for giving Therese a push into Carol’s arms. Her reassurances slowly smoothed away Therese’s anxious frown, and they made love in the late afternoon, everything slow and worshipful between them.</p><p>Now, seeing Genevieve as the product of Therese’s lens, of her clever and discerning eye, Carol felt something hot and unpleasant in her stomach.</p><p>She heard the telephone. She shut off the red light and hurried out and picked up the receiver. It was Therese.</p><p>“I’m out with some people,” she said. Her voice was not cold, exactly, but neither was it the warm murmur that Carol had grown to crave. Therese went on, “And we thought we’d see a movie and get dinner. I might not be back for a while.”</p><p>Carol could tell that she was in a bar; it was noisy and raucous with laughter.</p><p>“I see,” she said.</p><p>There was a moment of silence, so tense Carol hardly breathed.</p><p>“Are you all right?” Therese asked, though Carol thought she was saying it in a perfunctory way.</p><p>“Of course,” Carol retorted, defensive. “Stay out with your friends.”</p><p>Just then someone in the background called out, “Come on, Therese, we’re leaving!”</p><p>Carol recognized the voice at once. Bright and lilting and flirtatious. It was Genevieve Cantrell.</p><p>A flash of ice went through her, her body going hard and tight as stone.</p><p>“Don’t keep her waiting,” she said, and hung up.</p><p>And immediately called Abby.</p><p>“She’s out with another woman.”</p><p>Abby paused, as if trying to gage what Carol meant, and then she released a short and humorless laugh. “Carol, don’t be ridiculous.”</p><p>“I’m not being ridiculous!” Carol snapped. “I heard her. And I know who it was, too— some girl who’s been flirting with her for months.”</p><p>“So?” Abby demanded. “People flirt with Therese all the time. It never bothered you before.”</p><p>“Abby—”</p><p>“And why has it never bothered you before? Because you and I both know that Therese is mad as a hatter over you. And no pretty young thing batting her eyelashes could threaten that. Give her some credit.”</p><p>“That pretty young thing has no ex-husband,” Carol seethed, grinding out her cigarette and lighting another. “No daughter. No custody dramas and no baggage. If you were Therese, don’t you think it might occur to you that you could have things all much simpler than they are with me?”</p><p>Not until this moment, until saying it out loud, did Carol realize that this, <em>this</em>, was the root of it all. Therese was young and beautiful. Therese could have anyone.</p><p>Abby said nothing for a few seconds. Then, in a voice slightly hard, slightly edged, she replied, “You left Therese behind in a hotel room so you could deal with your baggage, and she spent a cross-country drive sick with missing you. She took you back in less than a day. She’s done nothing but adore you, ever since. If she hasn’t proved her faithfulness to you yet, then I think nothing could. And that makes you a real nitwit, Carol.”</p><p>Startled by Abby’s vehemence, and then cowed, Carol nonetheless could not shake her anger.</p><p>“She might have thought to spend the day with <em>me</em>,” she said, peevish as a child. “She might have thought I would need her, after last night.”</p><p>Another bark of laughter, incredulous. “You went out with <em>me</em> last night! Why would she think that you need her now?”</p><p>Carol scowled, not answering, smoking. After another moment Abby sighed, “Look. I’ve got a date. You can sit around and sulk if you like, but it won’t do either of you any good. If I were you, I’d read a book and calm down. And don’t drink! Remember, you’ve got Rindy tomorrow.”</p><p>A scoff, “For two hours.”</p><p>“And isn’t that better than nothing?” Abby threw back. “Honestly, Carol. I love you. But you can be so <em>myopic</em> when you want to be.”</p><p>The call ended soon after. Carol did <em>not</em> feel any better. In fact, knowing that Abby was right only made her more irritable. She refused to read a book, going instead to the front room to sit on the couch and smoke some more and gaze at the wall that was really the past, <em>her</em> past, stretched out in a limitless succession of mistakes. Her thoughts were all a tangle of longing, and anger. She longed to have Rindy with her, to feed her breakfast in the morning and get her ready for school and tuck her in at night. She longed for Therese to come home, to kiss her and show her that she was happy—that Carol made her happy.</p><p>But when she thought of Harge. When she thought of Genevieve Cantrell. When she thought that someone out in the world could keep from her that which she loved most—then she felt a rage like poison, coursing through her veins.</p><p>It was just after five o’clock when the front door opened, and Therese appeared.</p><p>For several moments they only looked at each other, Therese stood in the archway, Carol sitting on the couch. She flicked her eyes down Therese’s person, not sure what she was looking for. Distracted, momentarily, by the dress Therese was wearing, which was simple but suited her figure perfectly. She looked lovely in it, and her cheeks were a little pink, her hair attractively tousled. She looked as if she’d just come in by way of a strong wind.</p><p>“I thought you were going to the movies?” said Carol, and there was an undercurrent of accusation in her voice that she couldn’t seem to stop.</p><p>Therese heard it. She lifted an eyebrow. “I decided I’d better come home.”</p><p>“You must have disappointed your friends,” said Carol. “Who all was there?”</p><p>The faintest narrowing of Therese’s eyes. She answered, “The usual crowd. Dannie, Phil, Anna—”</p><p>“And Genevieve Cantrell?”</p><p>God, what was wrong with her? Why did she do this sort of thing? Therese’s eyes narrowed further. She pursed her lips and took off her camera that was hanging around her neck, setting it on top of the bookcase. She stepped further into the room, arms crossed over her chest and looking at Carol with the imperiousness of a schoolteacher who has found her student misbehaving.</p><p>“That’s what you meant, isn’t it? When you said, ‘Don’t keep her waiting,’ you meant Genevieve.”</p><p>“Well, she was calling for you, wasn’t she?” </p><p>“Since when are you jealous of Genevieve Cantrell?”</p><p>It was so like Therese, to cut through the bluster, to find the quick of the thing and root it out, mercilessly pragmatic. Carol was quite aware that she was behaving badly, but she could not bring herself to relent. She sat there on the couch with her cigarette and stared at Therese, almost defiantly. Therese stared right back. Her eyes were bright with challenge. There was color on her cheeks, and her jawline was sharply set. Her summer dress showed off her neck, her slim arms and delicate wrists, her calves. It must be warm outside, because now Carol saw just the faintest sheen of sweat, along her decolletage. Carol remembered, suddenly, just three nights ago. They had made love, Therese spread out beneath her, sweaty and gasping, and Carol had crawled all over her, from tip to toe, stopping at one point to set her mouth against one of Therese’s thighs, and <em>bite</em>. Was the mark still there, under her dress?</p><p>Therese, apparently tired of waiting for a response, released an exasperated sigh and quit the room. Carol, like a dog on the scent, got up, and followed her.</p><p>“It’s not as if it’s some secret that she’s sweet on you. I imagine she hardly takes her eyes off you when you’re together.”</p><p>Marching down the hallway, Therese threw a disparaging look back at her.</p><p>“You are making a fool of yourself,” Therese declared, “Especially considering that of the two of us, <em>I’m</em> not the one constantly in the company of my former lover.”</p><p>Therese went into the bedroom. Carol stopped at the threshold, laughing caustically.</p><p>“You can’t be serious.”</p><p>“Can’t I?” retorted Therese. “The minute you heard about Rindy, what did you do? Call Abby. I was standing right there, but did you talk to me? No. You don’t talk to me. You talk to Abby.”</p><p>“That is ridiculous—”</p><p>“And then you came home, drunk, and you were rude to me, and thoughtless, and this morning you were just as bad.”</p><p>This startled Carol, whose memories of last night and even this morning were a little hazy. Had she been rude? She couldn’t remember. She watched as Therese took off her shoes and then her sheer stockings; watched as she took off her watch and earrings and set them on the vanity, throwing Carol an accusing look through the mirror’s reflection. That set her off.</p><p>“No,” she said, stepping into the room. “No, I won’t have this. I spent <em>years</em> defending my friendship with Abby to Harge. I’m not repeating that pattern with you.”</p><p>“Yes, well, perhaps Harge had a point.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Therese doesn't have to be sweet.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The minute the words left her mouth, Therese knew it was perhaps the cruelest thing she could have said. Carol’s face in the vanity mirror showed her shock, but instead of guilt, Therese felt vindication. Carol was used to a Therese who was patient, who was sweet and understanding, who was calm. But Therese was none of those things right now, and she wanted Carol to know it. She glared at her in the reflection, noting the flare of Carol’s nostrils. She stood erect and proud, her gray eyes flashing, her mouth set in a hard line. Something went zipping down Therese’s spine at the sight of her. She was every inch the Grecian goddess Gen had called her, and Therese felt suddenly that she had no right at all to be so beautiful while they were fighting.</p><p>“I see,” gritted Carol. “Well, if I am such a disappointment to you, perhaps it’s good you have someone like Gen waiting in the wings.”</p><p>Therese spun around.</p><p>“And just as well you’ve got Abby,” she retorted.</p><p>She was breathing hard, and Carol was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling with the intensity of her emotions. Carol took another step into the room, but beyond that she did not act, did not speak. Nonetheless Therese began to see her as the apex of a storm, a point of stillness around which great gales and thunder and lightning had gathered, and Therese, at the perimeter, was soon to be swept up. Carried off. Obliterated. Against her will she thought of other storms. Other obliterations. Their bodies thrown together, tossed in seas of need and hunger and ecstasy. Carol inside her, anchoring her to the bed as she flew apart—</p><p>“I think we had better not talk for a while,” Therese said, heading toward the door again.</p><p>Carol’s hand darted out, catching her by the wrist.</p><p>Therese pivoted, wrenched free.</p><p>Their eyes met. A brushfire catching. And they smashed into each other.</p><p>The first kiss was more force than pleasure, lips hard and demanding, but then Therese bit her mouth and Carol hissed through her teeth and when her lips parted, Therese dove into her. Licked into her, aggressive, furious, grabbing at her hair. Carol’s arms went around her, forcing her back to the nearest wall, pushing her up against it and taking control, sliding her tongue into her mouth with such possessiveness and hunger that Therese whimpered sharply. Carol drew back just long enough to look into her eyes, and then, she began tearing at her clothes.</p><p>Therese gave as good as she got, snatching at the buttons of Carol’s blouse as Carol lowered the zipper on her dress and then yanked it down, past her shoulders. Therese wiggled out of it, wrenched Carol’s shirt apart and bent toward her breast like a hawk bomb-diving its prey. She pulled down the cup of her brassiere and bit the smooth, creamy top of her breast, and Carol jerked, gasped. Therese’s dress caught momentarily around her hips and then dropped, even as she sucked and bit and pulled the other cup down, taking the nipple between her teeth.</p><p>“Fuck,” Carol said, hands momentarily seizing her hair. Therese ran her tongue in wide, lewd circles around her nipple before biting her again, shoving Carol’s hands away when they reached for her hips.</p><p>Carol made a sound of fury. Grabbed her suddenly and spun her around, pushing the front of her body into the wall, pinning her hands at her sides.</p><p>“<em>Behave</em>,” she growled.</p><p>Therese would not behave. She used all her slight weight to try to push off the wall, but Carol was taller, stronger, and she responded by flattening her own body against Therese’s back, holding her captive and bending down to suck the corded muscle between Therese’s shoulder and her throat. Therese shuddered, went momentarily limp and pliant, and Carol made a low, approving sound, as if Therese were a naughty puppy that had come to heel.</p><p>“Don’t pretend,” Carol hissed in her ear, “that this isn’t <em>exactly</em> what you want.”</p><p>Therese shook a hand loose, grabbing Carol’s thigh, and digging her nails into her. Carol yelped, her hold relaxing with her surprise, and Therese slipped free. She stepped away from her and turned to face her with eyes that must be blazing. She was naked except for her underwear. Carol faced her, too, eyeing the five or six feet between them. They were like animals circling the same water hole.</p><p>Therese said, “Is that what you want, Carol? For me to obey you?”</p><p>Carol’s mouth curved in a lascivious smile. She shook off her blouse, hair cascading golden over her shoulders.</p><p>“You’re very pretty when you do,” she said.</p><p>Therese’s nostrils flared with anger, even as the words sent a bolt of sensation right to her sex, that was already warm and heavy and throbbing. “Perhaps <em>you</em> should obey <em>me</em>,” she challenged.</p><p>Carol grinned, almost wolfishly, and lunged at her.</p><p>Therese let herself be seized. She flung her arms around Carol’s neck and let Carol grab her around the waist, and this time their kiss was less a brawl than a strategic battle. Both of them had learned what to do, how to act, how to drive each other to fits. Therese knew what Carol liked: to slide into her mouth, to possess her. But in the end, this always meant that Carol was the one possessed. For what Therese liked was to meet her kiss, to stroke her tongue with her own, as if she were a spoonful of ice cream, til she melted. And Therese liked to grab Carol’s hair, to feel the silky strands of it between her fingers, and tug, until goosebumps ran down Carol’s back like droplets of water. And Carol liked to slip her hands down from Therese’s waist and grip the cheeks of her ass, putting a thigh between her legs and rocking her against her, demandingly. But the moment she felt Therese’s wetness, she gasped.</p><p>“Carol,” Therese moaned, because this was something else that Carol liked, something that made Carol helpless and desperate, and Therese was not about to lose their battle. She moaned her name again, and Carol whimpered, and Therese knew she had the upper hand. She scraped the nails of one hand down Carol’s neck, felt the shudder that went through her, knew that with just a little more she’d have her begging—</p><p>Carol grabbed her ass, lifted her, and flung her on the bed.</p><p>Therese had no chance to right herself, to sit up, to resist. Carol grabbed the waistband of her panties, yanking them down, throwing them away. She pushed Therese’s knees apart and moved between them, towering over her, her mouth slack and her eyes wild. She thumbed at a dark bruise on Therese's inner thigh, looking pleased. Then, she reached between her legs.</p><p>Therese shook all over, pressing her face into the bed.</p><p>“Oh, Darling,” Carol purred. “You do want it, don’t you?”</p><p>Therese grabbed at the sheets, canting her hips forward. Carol dragged her fingers up, used her thumb that was slick to glide over the hard tip of her clit. Clucked at her, “Poor baby. You’re so wet. Is this all for me? Or have you been wet all day? Did being with Genevieve make you wet like this?”</p><p>A flush traveled from Therese’s hairline, to the tips of her toes. She glared up at Carol, snapped at her, “No!”</p><p>“No?” Carol challenged, staring down into her eyes, her own steely, her voice raw and carnal. “Don’t you think that’s what she wants? To make you wet like this?”</p><p>Therese pushed her head back, breasts arching off the bed, gasping, “<em>Fuck</em>.”</p><p>Carol’s eyes lit up. It was so rare that Therese swore—that was usually Carol’s preserve. And hearing Therese swear seemed to work on Carol like gunpowder. She seized her by the hips, flipping her easily onto her stomach. She yanked her hips back, forcing her onto her knees and leaning over her back, one hand braced on the bed beside her, and with the other hand, she slid quickly, ruthlessly inside.</p><p>Therese’s arms nearly buckled. She had to lock her elbows, lock her thighs and her spine, to keep from collapsing. Carol pressed her fingers deep, three of them, and began to stroke, in and out, slow and hard, rubbing against that spot inside of her that turned the universe to melting stars. She bent over her, whispering against her ear, “This is what she wants, isn’t it? To make you helpless like this. To be inside you. To fuck you, like I’m doing.”</p><p>Therese sobbed her name, reached back with one hand to grab at the arm that was pumping into her. She had never, not once, imagined this with Genevieve, had never imagined it with anyone but Carol, and yet Carol’s words were like silk, teasing every inch of her, turning her nipples to swollen darts and making her clit throb.</p><p>“She wouldn’t even know what to do with you,” Carol hissed. “You needy thing.”</p><p>“No,” Therese gasped, shaking her head violently, “No, she—she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.”</p><p>Carol stopped thrusting, but even as Therese whined her objection, she was pushing her forward, further onto the bed, and coming to kneel behind her. She slung an arm around her and drew her upright, still keeping one hand inside, but somehow managing to pull Therese’s back against her chest. She used her free hand to release Therese’s bra, and Therese shook it off, pressing her head back against Carol’s shoulder. She could feel that at some point (when?) Carol had taken off her own bra. She could feel her nipples, and her bare stomach, and her thighs under her skirt, everything sticking to the sweat on her own skin. Carol nosed up under the fall of her hair, licked the lobe of her ear in a way so sharply suggestive that Therese sobbed again. She reached back, grabbing Carol’s head, pulling it forward and angling her own neck so she could kiss her, mouth open and sloppy, tongue thrusting against hers.</p><p>Carol slid her other hand between Therese’s legs and began to stroke her, the most delicate, precise circles, that made Therese break away with a sharp cry.</p><p>“She’ll never get the chance,” whispered Carol harshly. “She’ll never touch you. Only me, do you understand? You’re mine.”</p><p>“Yours,” Therese nodded fervently, wanting only for her to never stop, to keep going and going until they burned up, a conflagration visible from space. Now Carol was moving both her hands, the fingers inside her oddly twisted, but still somehow managing to hook against the front wall of her cunt, that was hot and wet and weeping with her desire. And Therese was almost weeping, too, her eyes stinging with tears, that were not anger, or grief, but the most potent and overwhelming pleasure. “Carol,” she wept, “Oh, Carol, please, please—”</p><p>“That’s it,” Carol told her, still with steel in her voice, still commanding her, controlling her, possessing her with her touch and her words and her lips against her ear. “That’s it, my angel. You are everything, do you hear me? I love you, God, I love you.”</p><p>“Love—” Therese tried, but couldn’t get the words out, because the tips of Carol’s fingers had started circling faster and harder. And her pleasure was growing so big, so deep and so acute that she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Each time she thought it was rising to its crest, it would ebb again, and then come back, higher and more powerful than ever. She dug one hand into Carol’s hair, and the other into her hip, thinking she must hold on, she must not let go, or all of her would—“Oh!” she gasped, and it ebbed again, “Oh!” and came roaring back, “Oh, God—” and ebbed, “Oh God oh god—”</p><p>And struck. Therese <em>screamed</em>.</p><p>Carol held her tight against her. She bit her shoulder and kept rubbing her, kept fucking her, didn’t relent for a moment. Therese thrashed and shook in her arms, wailing as if she would die, gripping at Carol so hard she must be hurting her, but Carol sounded about as taken up as she was—gasping and moaning and whimpering in her ear, “Yes, sweetheart, yes—<em>fuck</em>—yes, that’s it, don’t stop, keep going—oh, God, you’re perfect.”</p><p>Carol moved them to lay sideways, still slotted together, and she moved her fingers from her clit but kept pressing into her, over and over.</p><p>“Carol,” she choked out, “Carol, God—please, I—I can’t! I can’t!”</p><p>“Just a little more,” Carol told her. “You can, Angel. Show me you can—”</p><p>And no sooner had she said this than Therese felt it roaring toward her again, the spot inside her swollen and pulsing, deeper, faster. Carol’s arm was cushioning her head and without thinking she pressed her mouth into her bicep, not to bite but to muffle her shriek of pleasure. Her limbs trembled violently, ceaselessly. She was wet, everywhere, her skin drenched in sweat and her sex and thighs drenched with her release and Carol’s arm in her mouth slick with her saliva. And when finally Carol stilled her fingers and finally the roughest waves began to settle, all she could do was gasp over and over again, “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”</p><p>She went boneless, then. Shivering. Unable to move. Carol behind her was gasping almost as loudly as she was, but drawing her close as well, kissing her neck and her shoulder, and murmuring wordlessly to her. And in the grip of this exquisite relief, Therese whimpered her name again, “Carol…”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fluff incoming.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Later, Carol didn’t know if they fell asleep or lost consciousness, a combination of physical and emotional exhaustion that swept over them like a heavy fog. However long it lasted, it was deep, and dreamless, and Carol only woke again when she felt herself being turned over, onto her back. She blinked fuzzily, opened her eyes to find that Therese was climbing on top of her, straddling her waist, naked, and looking down into her eyes. Therese’s eyes were wide, dark, serious. Her whole face was serious, her fine features calm and watchful. There was a bright red mark on her shoulder, where Carol had bit her.</p><p>They stared at each other for a long time. Finally, Carol asked, “What are you thinking?”</p><p>That old question. That old uncertainty.</p><p>Therese cocked her head to the side, like an inquisitive bird. She murmured, “What am I thinking,” and trailed her eyes down Carol’s body, from her forehead to her throat to her breasts. She looked up again, into Carol’s eyes, and asked, “Are you really jealous of Genevieve?”</p><p>Carol hesitated. Her eyes flitted away and then came back. She asked, “Are you really jealous of Abby?”</p><p>Therese shrugged one pale shoulder. “Abby will always have something I don’t.” Carol frowned, and after a moment her lover said, “Your complete trust.”</p><p>She might as well have put a dagger in her heart. Carol felt as if all the blood was going out of her, a combination of shock, and horror.</p><p>“Darling—” she tried.</p><p>“You went to her,” Therese said. “Last night, everything went wrong, and you didn’t come to me. You went to her.”</p><p>Carol’s mouth opened and closed, wanting to object. But as she lay there with Therese’s slight weight pinning her down, she realized miserably that it was true. She had not trusted Therese, to love her at her worst, to love her in spite of everything—of all the weight she carried around with her, all the acrimony of a failed marriage, all the grief of motherhood denied.</p><p>“I wanted to comfort you,” Therese admitted softly. Her eyes shone bright with tears that didn’t fall, and Carol’s heart broke. “I still do…”</p><p>“Oh, Therese,” she said helplessly, reaching up to touch her neck, to touch the tips of her hair. She was afraid that Therese would flinch away from her. Instead, she leaned into her open hand. She rubbed her face into her palm, closed her eyes and kissed her fingers, and Carol could have wept with relief. “Angel, I think…” she swallowed hard. “I think, perhaps, you don’t realize… that sometimes I feel so… old, with you.”</p><p>Therese’s brow furrowed in equal parts startlement, and consternation. Her voice was slightly irritated when she said, “Carol, honestly, you’re only thirty tw—”</p><p>“I don’t mean like that,” Carol said. “The age… the years… I’ve long ago accepted that’s not reason enough to let go of you. But it’s all the rest of it. Who knows how long things will go on like this, with Harge? Who knows if we’ll have to go to court someday? And I think sometimes that you… that you are just at the beginning of your life, your career, your—your knowledge of yourself. And you could so easily have a simpler time, with a woman like—”</p><p>“Don’t,” Therese said.</p><p>Her voice was sharp and direct as an arrow. Carol looked meekly up at her, and her eyes were emerald flints. In a short, clipped voice she warned her, “Don’t. Say. Her name.”</p><p>Carol felt tears start in her own eyes, embarrassed and ashamed, but then all at once Therese flowed forward, her small, lovely breasts pressing against Carol’s, her mouth taking hers in a deep, desiring kiss.</p><p>“She doesn’t exist,” Therese whispered against her mouth. “Do you know what I see when I look at her? Nothing.” Another deep kiss, the hint of her tongue. Carol moaned softly, sparks beginning to flicker across her skin. “Do you know what I see when I look at you? <em>Everything</em>.”  </p><p>She slid her tongue into her mouth, with devouring hunger. Carol reached for her hips, touching the juts of her hipbones as if she were porcelain, moaning again.</p><p>“I don’t want a simpler time,” Therese said fiercely. “I want you. I want your foibles. I want your past. I want your daughter.” Carol whimpered, tears sliding free, and Therese said, “If you go to court, I’ll go with you. If Harge tries to take Rindy again, we’ll fight him. You said that I was yours, and I am. And you’re <em>mine</em>.”</p><p>Her kiss this time was aggressive, possessing. Carol thought that Therese had never said so much all at once before—that her words were equal to any marriage vow. Carol arched up into her kiss, needy, longing. Therese reached for the zip of her skirt and dragged it down. Then she was moving so that she could take off her skirt, take off her undergarments. She put her mouth—everywhere. On Carol’s shoulders and throat. On her chest and her breasts. On her heaving rib cage, and her trembling stomach. She put her mouth on her thighs, and put her thighs over her shoulders, and slid her tongue between her legs with the hunger and demand of a starving person, come to feast.</p><p>Carol choked on a sound of pure, unadulterated lust. Therese had learned this so fast, with such dedication—even the first time she had left her melted into goo. And now, with time, she’d grown not only knowledgeable, but confident. She moved and licked and acted with the authority of experience, knowing just what Carol liked, knowing just how to torture her, just how to make her beg. Carol would have begged—if she had any hint of language left in her brain. No, she had no words, only gasping cries that pitched louder and louder, til with a thought for their neighbors, she pressed her fist against her mouth, trying to muffle it.</p><p>Instantly, Therese’s mouth was gone. She reached up, snatching Carol’s elbow, and pulling her hand away. She looked at her over the length of her body, her eyes like a jungle cat’s, and growled, “Don’t. Let me hear you.”</p><p>So, Carol grabbed the sheets instead, and Therese went back to work. After a moment she let her fingers join her tongue, sliding two inside and moaning into her.</p><p>“God,” she said, “You’re so tight.” Carol whimpered. It was usually her who talked during sex, Therese too focused and too overwhelmed to make words. But now she was stroking her fingers deeply inside her and saying in an amazed voice, “You’re so wet. You taste so good—why do you always taste so good? You make me never want you to come. Never want it to stop.”</p><p>All this talking was like so many electric currents, zipping along Carol’s nerves—but it also meant that Therese’s mouth was not where Carol needed it. Impatient, desperate, she reached for her head—tried to guide her back to what she’d been doing.</p><p>Therese nipped her thigh.</p><p>Carol gasped, looked down, and there were those predatory eyes again, dark and consuming, but with a tiny smirk at the corner of her mouth.</p><p>“<em>Behave</em>,” she said.</p><p>Just that word nearly tipped her over. Carol whimpered and lay back, forcing herself to obey. Looking provocatively self-satisfied, Therese grinned wider, and dove back in.</p><p>And thank God—<em>thank God!</em> —she didn’t tease. She moved like a forest fire, consuming, her fingers crooked inside and her tongue relentless, merciless. She moaned into her, the vibration accentuating—<em>everything</em>.</p><p>Carol gasped, “Yes,” and “Please!” and “More!” until Therese stopped licking altogether but took her in her mouth and <em>sucked</em>. And that final action flung Carol—out of her body—out of space, into an orgasm that reduced her to rubble, melted her down and left her quaking, like the proverbial leaf in the proverbial storm. And Therese was the storm, surging up over her again, coming for her mouth even as her fingers kept pressing. Carol had no strength to resist. Didn’t want to resist. She kissed her back, gasping and sobbing and canting her hips. She could taste herself in Therese’s mouth. She could feel herself, clenching around Therese’s fingers. And that sensation, more than dismantling her, powered her with a new and very specific need.</p><p>She moved her own hand. With Therese kneeling over her, it was easy to reach between her legs. Therese didn’t even know it was happening until her fingers slid inside. Therese cried out, head tossing back, exposing the line of her throat that was too beautiful to resist. Carol arched up, sucking and biting her there. She would leave another mark. She didn’t care. Therese could wear a scarf. And from the way that Therese shuddered and moaned, she thought she didn’t care, either</p><p>“God—Carol,” Therese gasped, her fingers still pressing and stroking, even as Carol slid deeper into her, determined to bring her along.</p><p>“Yes, Darling,” Carol said, “Keep going. I want it like this. I want to touch you like this.”</p><p>She shifted her hand so that Therese could grind forward, into her palm, and on the next stroke she mewled and shivered, burying her face in Carol’s throat. She shifted her own hand, so that Carol would have the same pressure where she needed it, and they began to rock together. It was not so violent as it had been before—but it was still ferocious, slow, and deep. When Therese could bring herself to lift her head again, they kissed, and that was slow, too, urgent, divine.</p><p>Carol was still so sensitive from her first release, and the steady rubbing of Therese’s hand, after the more localized attention of her tongue, was exactly what she needed. She could hardly keep her eyes open. She would try, desperate to watch Therese, and then find them slipping closed again. She felt Therese watching her, saw at one moment a little smile at the corner of her mouth, that meant she knew Carol’s struggle, and that smile made Carol’s toes curl. She keened, but fought it. Didn’t want to come yet. Wanted Therese to be with her. It was all spreading inside her, slow like molasses, but inexorable. She wouldn’t be able to last.</p><p>“Oh,” she sighed, “Oh—”</p><p>“It’s all right,” Therese murmured to her. “Let me see you.”</p><p>Carol answered by rubbing harder inside her, crooking deeper, and Therese gave a sharp jerk, whining. She leaned forward, pressing her face into Carol’s throat again. And that meant Carol could bury her own face against her hair, close her eyes and breathe her in, a delectable mix of sweat, and sex, and <em>Therese</em>, just Therese.</p><p>“Can you come with me, Darling?” Carol whispered, and felt Therese nod against her, felt her own pleasure cresting. It came on her slowly—she could see it from a great distance, and as it moved in it grew and spread and rose, til she was gasping for breath, feeling it coming, almost terrified—</p><p>“I love you,” groaned Therese—</p><p>And it broke over her. Flooded her. She was too overwhelmed even to make a sound, her body going taut for a few moments, and then she started rolling into it, hips pushing toward it, thighs and belly flexing with the intensity of it. And through the haze she became aware of Therese, too—her breath hitching sharply, her face pressing deeper, her sex beginning to flutter and clench.</p><p>It felt like minutes went by, before at last Therese fell completely forward, going limp. They managed, carefully, to slide out of each other, both of them whimpering, sighing, panting for breath. Carol wanted to wrap her arms around Therese, but she couldn’t move, and for a long time had to settle instead for loosely cupping her thighs, that were still bracketing Carol’s hips. She loved the weight of Therese on top of her, loved to feel as if Therese were holding her down, helping her to stay in this bed, when her body felt on the verge of floating away forever.</p><p>“Carol,” Therese whispered at last, “Hold me.”</p><p>No amount of exhaustion would stop her answering that plea. She forced her arms to move, and as soon as they did, she felt incredible relief, to have them wrapped around Therese, to feel the slickness of the sweat along her back. They were both slick, both sticky; the sheets beneath them were damp. When Carol was with Harge, she had not liked the messiness of sex. With Therese, she thought she would die from the pure satisfaction of it.</p><p>After a while, Carol coaxed Therese to roll over, onto her side, and when she had she moved behind her, cradling her against the front of her body, as they often did when they went to sleep. The position could not help but recall their lovemaking, the furious intensity of her fucking Therese from behind. Therese made a low murmuring sound, that was pleased, and naughty. She must be thinking the same thing. Carol chuckled, hugging her closer.</p><p>“Will you ever stop dismantling me, Ms. Belivet?” Carol asked.</p><p>This time Therese chuckled, and took Carol’s hand and pulled it up, so that it was cupping one small, warm breast.</p><p>“No, never,” she said. “How else am I to keep up with you?”</p><p>Carol growled playfully, nudging her nose against the vibrant mark she’d left on Therese’s shoulder, delighting in Therese’s low hum.</p><p>“I think you outpace me in every way, Darling, but I will do my best to be worthy of you.” Then, she thought of everything that had brought them to this, of the hurt she’d caused Therese with her distance, and tears pricked her eyes as she whispered, solemnly, “I only want to be worthy of you.”</p><p>“Oh, Carol,” murmured Therese, and in those words, she said everything—that Carol <em>was</em> worthy. That Carol was loved. That they belonged to each other and would not be parted. It was quiet between them for several minutes, quiet and peaceful as it hadn’t been since before last night. Then Therese asked, “What shall we do with Rindy tomorrow?”</p><p>She was beginning to sound groggy, her body growing softer and softer as sleep reached for her. Carol nuzzled against her again.</p><p>“The park, perhaps?”</p><p>Therese hummed, mumbling, “There were ice cream carts, today.”</p><p>“Well. That’s that.”</p><p>Another chuckle. And then Therese melted away into sleep, her breaths evening out, her warm body softening. Carol did not follow straight away. She held Therese to her, as if her body were all the love and safety and comfort in the world, given form. As if nothing could matter more than to shelter it and protect it. Which she did. And fell asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>